Cast Out
by Shini02
Summary: Oneshot. He can never go back.


**Disclaimer:** I own the fic, that's about it.

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**Cast Out**

He had been floating on his back, high above the earth, out of reach of the mortal plane, holding onto the golden watch that was his life as the heavenly whippet floated above him, oblivious to his intentions. As she dipped down closer to him, singing a wordless melody to him, he fumbled with the watch in his grasp. Then he started to wind it up again, intent on getting the old antique to start ticking again. The whippet stopped singing, having noticed what he was trying to do and told him not to do it – he decided to ignore the urgency in her voice. He had never listened to anyone in his life before, this angel was no different.

The mechanisms inside the watch slowly came to life as he turned and turned the tiny golden dial at the top. The feel of the ticking in his paw started to feel more like a pulse, and it surged through his entire body before he suddenly was plunged into something cold and crushing. Something with a grip far worse than death.

He tried to take a breath before he tried to open his eyes. Water filled his mouth, poured down his throat and was sucked into his lungs. Gagging, he opened his eyes and found them burning as the dirt at the bottom of the Mississippi was roused by his movements. His eyes widened and he gripped the watch in his paw tighter, feeling the innards slowing down, his heart stopping. He had to get to the surface before the watch flooded.

He pushed himself through the water with as much strength as he possibly could, which was not much considering he had been dead for a few hours and his body had started to stiffen at the the bottom of the river. But he withstood the pain his muscles and in his joints, forcing himself to break the surface. And when water gave way to the cool night air, he took a deep breath, sucking in air that tasted dirty compared to that which made Heaven's atmosphere.

He slammed the watch down onto the dock, making sure to leak the water out. A cat hissed at him but he paid little attention to it as he pulled himself up onto the old wood, crawling a few feet away from the edge. He gripped the watch tightly, feeling that odd pulsation that synced up to his heart so well again. It was a small relief, for the moment, to feel his own life throb so hard in his paw. The sensation of the pulse and the feel of the trivial physical things he so often too for granted was overwhelming. He enjoyed the chill of the wind against his wet body; the feel of the splinters daring to pierce the pads of his paws; the annoying tickle of the fleas roaming his body like nothing was out of the ordinary.

His eyes widened as he felt the need to gag again, to bring up the filthy water that had flooded his lungs and slipped effortlessly into his stomach. He hacked and wheezed until the water was disgorged, then caught his breath and stared hard at the dock. Then his eyes wandered to the shimmer of gold under his paw. He felt the compelling need to open it, to make certain it was working properly and he was not imagining things. He open the watch up and stared at the face, pleased to see the second hand ticking away, followed by the minute hand after a moment or so had passed.

Then the face of the watch glowed an eerie shade of white. _You can never come back._ He blinked in confusion, then the whippet spoke again. _You can never come back._

He shut the watch and childishly glared at the sky above, knowing she was watching him. He did not want to go back, anyway. Heaven was no paradise of everlasting tranquility, it was a prison and its foundation was boredom. And if he was understanding what she was saying... It was no surprise. He had been damned to hell so many times by dogs and humans alike, to be damned one more time was nothing worth giving a second thought.

He started to hack again. Suddenly retching, he released the things his body no longer needed, namely: what was left of the alcohol in his system and the minuscule amount of water that had been left in his lungs. When the spasms ended for good, he stood himself up on unsure legs, slinging the watch around his neck by the blue ribbon it was suspended on. He avoided the small pool of his own void and began the walk back to shore. His bones cracked and his joints popped as he worked the sensation of death out of his body. By the time he reached the streets, his blood was flowing properly, his heart was beating regularly and the aches and pains in his bones and muscles were hardly worth mentioning. With his body working the way it was supposed to again, he started to walk back to the junkyard, trying to ignore the haunting whisper on the wind that seemed to follow him, _you can **never** come back._

-End


End file.
